Come What May
by deangirl22
Summary: Twenty years have passed since Melanie Davenport left Harlan county. During that time Melanie didn't think much of her hometown, or the young boys she left behind. Now those boys are men, and those men live complicated lives. Melanie becomes entangled and has no desire to free herself. (This story will closely coincide with the show from early season two, onward.)
1. Prologue

**A/N- Justified doesn't do flashbacks, so I felt a prologue was necessary. In this chapter, the characters are in high school, so if they seem slightly out of tune, it was intentional.**

**Prologue**

"C'mon Raylan will you just talk to her?" Melanie Davenport begged. Raylan Givens shook his head with a coy smirk. "Why not?" she persisted, growing agaited.

"Cause. I like someone else." Raylan answered, crossing his arms with ease.

"Who? Is she as crazy about you as Ava is?" Melanie pressed.

"I don't know...why don't you tell me..." Raylan replied. Melanie merely blinked as Raylan smiled expectantly. "Well? Do you like me as much as Ava?" he persisted, as Melanie continued to gawk.

"I'm...dating Dickie..." Melanie said slowly, as if reminding herself as well as him.

"Not much of an answer." Raylan countered with a shrug. "More like a statement.."

"GIVENS." hollered Coach McGraw, stepping out of the dugout to squint underneath the bleachers where Melanie and Raylan stood. "Huddle in Givens, thought I warned you 'bout waitin' last minute..." he scolded.

"Comin' Coach." Raylan called back, unfurling his baseball cap and pulling it over his head. "You think of an actual answer, lemme know won't ya? In the meantime.." Raylan swiftly leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips. "For good luck." he explained with a grin, as he shouldered past her.

Unbeknown to the duo, Coaver Bennett, who was already seated on the bleachers, had been peering down at Melanie to glimpse her budding bossom. Not only did Coaver witness Raylan kiss her, he also saw the pink hue that consumed Melanie's cheeks afterward. Shaking his head in dismay, Coaver stood and barrelled down the steps. Hopping free of the bleachers, Coaver made a beeline for the opposite dugout.

"Where you goin' Coav?" called Doyle Bennett.

Coaver turned about-face and began to walk backwards. "Did you see that shit?" he asked. Doyle shook his head. "I'll be right back, gotta tell Dickie somethin'."

Dickie Bennett was stretching his hamstrings when his younger brother Coaver bounded up to him. "Here to wish me luck Coav? Ain't you usually feelin' up Beth 'bout now?" he greeted, with a subtle chuckle.

"She's out sick. Dickie listen, when I was staring down Melanie's shirt..."

"My Melanie? Christ I told you, you really wanna see her tits, just walk in on us when we're making out. She loves second base...I'll let ya sneak a peek."

Dickie's interruption momentarily froze Coaver's train of thought. "...Might be Raylan's the one to get to second base from now on...I saw him makin' out with Mel beneath the bleachers."

"MY Mel?" Dickie growled. A whistle was blown, signaling the start of the game. "That voiceless hounddog...I'mma learn 'im a lesson, just you watch Coav." he swore. "Go on back to the stands...I appreciate the heads-up brother, I truly do. I'll git Raylan, you'll see." Dickie said dismissively patting his brother on the shoulder.

Anger thrashed throughout Dickie's mind, his head automatically nodding in acknowledgement to Coach Everrett's order for him to pitch first. His grey eyes already honed in on Raylan who was up to bat, Dickie accepted the picther's mit from a fellow teammate and marched out to pit. Muttering mindlessly to himself, Dickie threw the first ball. It sailed cleanly past Raylan's head. "STRIKE ONE." shouted the catcher, Bowman Crowder, lobbing the ball back to Dickie. Relinquishing some of his angst by exhaling, Dickie rolled his shoulders and tossed again. This time Raylan's bat connected with the ball but it bounced off at an improper angle and was ruled as another strike. As the ball was thrown back to him, Dickie's eyes trailed to the bleachers, where Melanie was lounging against the fence beside her best friend Ava.

"C'mon Dickie, we ain't got all night." Raylan taunted.

The sound of Raylan's voice was enough to make the last strand of Dickie's restraint to snap. Tucking his baseball cap tighter against his brow, Dickie winded up and thrusted the ball from his grasp. It soared through the air and smacked Raylan straight in the forehead. The crowd gasped as Raylan buckled, face-first into the dirt. Sneering, Dickie advanced forward, deaf to the protesting shouts of the coaches. Dazed, Raylan lifted his head to see Dickie raising his cleave. In mere seconds, Raylan's hand had fumbled for the basebat, found it, and cracked the bat against Dickie's raised calf. A heartstopping scream bellowed from Dickie's throat as he crumbled sideways.

Time seemed to crawl to a stop as Melanie climbed over the fence with Ava. Her gaze darted from the shouting match between Arlo Givens and Mags Bennett, to the Bennett boys swarming around Dickie while Boyd Crowder hunched down beside Raylan. Melanie grimaced as she caught sight of Dickie's contorted leg. Turning slightly she saw Helen Givens examining the bloated knot on Raylan's forehead. A sick feeling cloated Melanie's heart, as she wondered if perhaps this had little to do with their family rivarly, and more to do with what had just occurred between her and Raylan.

Mags finally separated herself from Arlos's fury. "Coaver, pick up your brother." Mags ordered. "Doyle," she tossed her keys to her eldest son. "Go start the car, bring it 'round. We ain't waitin' for no ambulance."

Knowing Coaver to be brutish, Melanie stepped forward to help him carry Dickie. However, the venomous leer Coaver shot her froze Melanie in her tracks. 'He saw.' Melanie thought soberly. 'Christ he saw Raylan and me.'

Without looking back, Mags called over her shoulder. "Davenport! Let's git a move on." she urged.

* * *

The emergency room was reserved for immediate family, leaving Melanie to wander the halls in search of the Givens. She spotted Arlo striding towards an exit with a lit cigerattee between his lips, grumbling to himself. Melanie quickened her pace, pausing only when she heard Helen's voice. Raylan was sitting up on his bed, wincing slightly as he proded the lump on his forehead.

"I didn't corrose 'im, and I didn't do anything to his brothers, he did this shit at random." Raylan was insisting.

Noticing Melanie hovering in the doorway, Helen forced a smile. "How's Dickie doin'?" she greeted.

"Don't know yet." Melanie answered with a sheepish shrug. "How are ya Raylan?"

"Fine. 'Cept neither my father or my aunt believe me when I say, this wasn't my fault." Raylan responded crossly.

"...Mighta been." Melanie admitted hestiantly.

"...'cuse me?" Raylan responded, furrowing his brow.

"I think Coaver saw you kiss me." Melanie explained.

"You kissin' other boy's girlfriends now?" Helen asked sternly, although her tone implied she wasn't surprised.

"It was a peck! She kept botherin' me 'bout Ava." Raylan replied defensively. Slumping slightly under the stern gaze of Helen, Raylan added in a mumble."Never had you pegged as a tattletale Mel."

"...I know how Arlo can be." Melanie said softly. Raylan's bittersweet glower, clouded into an undreadable stare.

Doyle's voice rattled down the hall. "Davenport!"

When Melanie glanced at him, Doyle gestured for her to come. "I've gotta go. I'm glad you're alright Raylan..." Melanie responded.

"Yeah..be seein' you Mel..." Raylan dismissed, cloaking his disappointment as indifference.

With a half-smile, Melanie retreated down the hall. The expression on Doyle's face as she approached, made Melanie immediately uncomfortable. "What?" she muttered in greeting.

"He your new boyfriend now?" Doyle tutted, with a smirk.

"Shut up and take me to Dickie." Melanie scowled with a glare. Doyle continued to jeer silently as he led the way. They passed Coaver in the niche of a hallway, his attention devoted to a vending machine. Melanie rolled her eyes in disgust.

Dickie's hositpal gown was a faint yellow, an oddly flattering color on him. His left leg was propped in mid-air casted with various rods and widgits. Dickie himself appeared pale, weak and groggy. Mags Bennett sat beside him, worry scribbled clearly on her face. "Your parents still out of town child?" she greeted, as Melanie clasped her hand around Dickie's. "Don't do that." she requested and Melanie swiftly released Dickie.

"Yes Ma'am, they've business with Mr. Crowder." Melanie answered anxiously.

"I wish the timin' were better then. Melanie, you're not welcome 'round our family anymore. I don't want you anywhere near Dickie, not now, not ever, you understand?" Mags responded.

Although Mags had clearly never been fond of Melanie, her mouth was agap. "Wh-why?" she stammered.

"The kind of girl that'd go 'round kissing boys under bleachers, is the kind of girl not welcome 'round my boys. If you were any sort of decent, you'd have pushed Raylan away, maybe smacked him...not stand there blushin'.." Mags responded.

Melanie's paniced gaze darted from Mags to Dickie. "I-It happened quick, I-I..." she stammered uselessly.

"Not the way I heard it." Mags retorted. As if on cue, Coaver entered the room munching on a Snickers bar.

Melanie took a deep breath, in an attempt to ease her mounting anxiety. "Ma'am. I have no interest in Raylan, I'm Dickie's girl." she said firmly.

"You _were _Dickie's girl," Mags corrected with a shake of her head. "You're not anymore. I'd like you to leave."

"Ma'am, please..." Melanie murmured, looking to Dickie for support. Dickie merely stared back at her, his hands tightly clenched into fists, from the pain or his newfound hatred for her, it was hard to say.

"If you're already bored of Raylan, I can hardly say I'm surprised...you Davenports are greedy folk, and it'll be your undoing. Now run along." Mags dismissed.

A cold feeling was swelling in Melanie's core, as she backed out of the room. Drudging down the hall, back to where she'd last seen Raylan, Melanie's mind was dominated by a numbness that could only be classified as disbelief.

* * *

During the car-ride home, Raylan repeatedly attempted to speak to Melanie to no avail. Each time, his voice shattered her mental warding like a siren, but Melanie continued to ignore him. Eventually, she found her voice and when she did, she didn't direct it at Raylan. "Ma'am?" she began, addressing Helen. Helen gazed in the rearview mirror. "Do you know what kind of business trip my parents went on?" she asked.

"...Even if I did, I wouldn't be in a position to say..." Helen answered truthfully. "What brought this on hun?"

"Mags bad-talking the Davenports?" Arlo guessed with a backward glance. Melanie nodded sullenly. "Fuckin' bitch." he cursed, in an aggiated tone.

"What Arlo means to say is, don't take it to heart Mel..." Helen explained. It was then that Raylan reached out a condoling hand, and Melanie shifted in her seat, presenting her back to him. Helen pretended she hadn't seen the crestfallen look on Raylan's face.

Eyeing the icepack, mulched between his hands, Raylan sighed in exaspharetion. "Mel..keep ignorin' a fella like this, you might make him start to worry he's crossed over the mortal plain..." he baited. Melanie remained stationary. "Alright..you've left me no choice..." Raylan murmured. He reached as far as his seatbelt allowed and pressed his icepack against her exposed neck.

"Christ Raylan!" Melanie gasped, squirming.

"Oh so you do still know how to talk. Thought maybe you'd been shocked into silence."

"Argh don't be so dramatic."

"Me? You're the one being dramatic...actin' like the world's endin' all because I broke Dickie's leg." Raylan scowled. "Fucker tried to stomp my face in, he got what he deserved..."

"That mighta not happened if you hadn't kissed me! Now, thanks to you, Mrs. Bennett has forbid us from bein' together...So I have the right to be a little standoffish Raylan." Melanie rambled.

Silence filled the car for a full minute, during which Melanie returned her gaze outside, and Raylan shifted his focus onto the icepack again. Finally, he spoke. "Dickie didn't deserve you anyway.." Raylan glanced up at Melanie just as she fixed him with a glower. "He didn't.." Raylan insisted.

"You know what I deserve do you?" Melanie growled. "Let's get somethin' straight – after all this, I'd sooner date Boyd Crowder than you."

"You hate Boyd."

"I don't hate him, Ava does! I happen to like Boyd."

Several seconds of dead air passed. "...You like Boyd?" Raylan repeated.

In a bout of annoyance, Melanie briefly closed her eyes. "...I didn't mean it like that." she rebuttled.

"You sure? You're lookin' a lil rosy around the edges." Raylan challenged, thumbing around his own cheeks. Melanie responded by rolling her eyes and slinking into her seat. "That the lay of the land then? Ava likes me, I like you, you like Boyd and Boyd likes Ava...that what I'm supposed to believe?"

Melanie shrugged. "Believe whatever you want Raylan...could be this whole conversation was an illusion you dreamed up on account of your concussion." she said.

More silence. Then Raylan smirked. "...You like Boyd..."

"Shut up Raylan." Melanie scowled.

"You know I gotta tell 'im..."

"_What_?"

"What concern of it is yours?" Raylan mocked.

"Big, a big concern Raylan, it ain't true!" Melanie moaned.

"Then you shouldn't have a problem denyin' it!" Raylan jeered.

Melanie stared at Raylan's smug face with an angry quiver on her lips. "...I'm never speaking to you again Raylan Givens..." she declared.

* * *

Ava's cheery face contorted into a sneer. "See that Mel? We ain't been playin' horseshoes for 10 minutes before Boyd Crowder come around to pester me..."

Melanie had noticed Boyd approaching before Ava spoke, and oddly enough Boyd's attention had been directed right back at her. However Melanie had immediately broken eyecontact in an effort to subdue the spark of joy threatening to ignite. Her crush was a mystery even to herself, one Mel had no interest in solving.

"Actually Ava, I'm here to speak to Mel..." Boyd announced.

Ava made a noise of disbelief. "You're here to speak to Mel.." she echoed.

Boyd nodded. "Privately, if you don't mind..." he added.

Ava darted her eyes onto Melanie who had busied herself with throwing her horseshoe. "Fine, talk to Mel. I'm gonna go check the television..." Ava decided. As she walked away, Ava cast a backward glance over her shoulder, and had Melanie or Boyd been paying attention, either one of them might've suspected Ava looked disappointed.

Melanie retrieved her horseshoe with a sideways glance at Boyd. "You here because of Raylan?" she guessed.

"I am." Boyd confirmed.

"Then you should know he's a fuckin' liar.." Melanie said firmly.

Boyd's face clouded in confusion. "...You haven't been givin' Raylan the silent treatment?" he asked in his usual casual fashion.

"...Well..yes.." Melanie admitted.

"Then..what were you talkin' 'bout?" Boyd pressed.

Melanie's face grew warm and a hasty smile sprang to her lips. "Um nothin'. Nevermind...why's Raylan sendin' you to fight his battles? Doesn't seem like 'im..." she responded.

"He didn't send me, I came myself. Hoped I might talk some sense into you.."

"Look, your best friend cost me my boyfriend. I can be mad at him as long as I damn well please."

"If Dickie still wanted to be your boyfriend, he'd be your boyfriend." Boyd told her. "Mama's boy or not - and we all know them Bennett boys are - Dickie's old enough to make his own decisions. You're a smart girl Mel, deep down you know that's the truth of the matter is he didn't like you as much as you thought."

Pursuing her lips, Melanie tried in vain to keep her tone even. "Thank you for the compliment Boyd, but don't stand there tellin' me how I think. If you're done givin' me your two cents, Ava's waitin' inside for you to fawn over her." she curtly replied.

Boyd cocked his head a bit. "Not jealous I like Ava are you?"

A dry, nervous laugh rumbled from Melanie's throat. "Here I thought you were done talkin' nonsense..."

"Hm." Boyd murmured, retrieving something from the inside of his jacket. "This book a pack of lies then?" he asked, holding up a leatherbound journal.

Melanie's mouth gaped open, her eyes wide and lifeless, as if she'd suddenly been struck dumb. "That's...mine..." she stammered. Then just as suddenly, anger, panic and terror overwhelmed Melanie. "Where did you get that?!" she cried, trying to lunge for her journal. Boyd, who was taller than her, held it just out of her grasp, studying her face. "Boyd goddamnit, give it to me!" she persisted as he lowered her journal from the air to behind his back.

"I believe I asked you a question." Boyd reminded her, barring her attempts at side-stepping.

The close proximity to Boyd flustered Melanie in more ways than one and she was sorely tempted to kick him in the shin. "...No okay? Nothing in that journal 'cept my honest thoughts about people." she softly said, keeping her dishelved gaze free of Boyd. "And fuck you for readin' it." she added haughtily.

"I had to. Your name wasn't written anywhere on it." Boyd pointed out, as he offered it to her. "..'sides, your handwritting ain't that dainty." he continued, as Melanie dejectedly accepted it. "A thank you seems in order." Melanie leered up at him, but Boyd remained unphased. "What if it hadn't been me who found it? What if it'd been someone who hoped to exploit it? Blackmail you even...I mean," Boyd stepped a little closer. "Does Ava know you're the reason Raylan doesn't pay her any mind?" he asked quietly.

"Of course not."

"So all things considered, it's forunate I was the one to discover your journal now isn't it?"

A parallel knot was twisting itself uncomfortably between Melanie's heart and stomach. "...Thank you..Boyd.." she begrudging replied.

"You're welcome Melanie. Now if you'll allow me to put in my final two cents, I'll be on my way. One," Boyd held up a finger for effect. "You spent far more time in that journal of yours, talkin' 'bout how you miss hangin' with Raylan than makin' out with Dickie."

"...And the second thing?" Melanie asked shortly.

"I would love to dance with you at the ho-down..." Boyd answered with a small smile, stepping past her.

His words left Melanie rooted to the spot. Meanwhile, Boyd journeyed to his father's car, waiting on the street. The minute the car door closed behind him, Bo berated his son. "You were supposed to return the damnable journal, not stand around playin' grab ass."

"Sorry father." Boyd said simply, his smile unaffected by Bo's irriated tone.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - Lex and Melanie belong to me, the others do not. A few lines of dialogue were repurposed from the show. **

* * *

**Chapter One**

Alexander 'Lex' Braysdale, was the supervising field agent of the Detroit Office Of Criminal Investigations. An Englishman in his late-forties, Lex had thinning dark brown hair that clung close to his square face, and squinty gray eyes that displayed his arrogance. His voice was rough and unmemorable, but nonetheless Lex was notorious for being an abashed womanizer. Melanie Davenport had had few direct encounters with Lex, for which she was thankful for. Although her occupation left her feeling stir-crazy most days, Melanie had settled into her role as a desk jockey. When Melanie received a summon from Lex, she grew paranoid that perhaps one of her peers had overheard her restless muttering one time too many.

Melanie paused outside Lex's door, prepping her facial features. She couldn't smile nor scowl, since Lex could interpret either as an opening for flirtation. Expecting the worst, Melanie fixated a glimmering grimace onto her face, and entered his office.

Lex was seated at his desk, eying her as if she were a door-to-door salesman. "Miss Davenport. I've a phone call for you." he announced shortly. Confusion etched itself across Melanie's brow, before she could think to mask it. "He's a sheriff from your hometown, called himself Doyle Bennett."

_"Doyle Bennett?"_ Melanie repeated in disbelief.

"Yes Miss Davenport. I was under the impression that he and you were acquainted...though I am baffled as to why this bugger would be calling during business hours, let alone continuously harassing my secretary, demanding I speak to him." Lex continued, his breath coming out in annoyed bursts.

"Sir I can assure you I have no idea what this is 'bout." Melanie promised.

"Then answer the bloody call." Lex said through clenched teeth.

Melanie glanced at the phone apprehensively but only for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she cradled the headset, but before she could raise it to her ear, Lex had activated the speaker-phone feature. Trying to keep an even expression as Lex glowered at her expectantly, Melanie greeted flatly. "Melanie Davenport."

The smile in Doyle's voice could be heard over the airwaves. "Melanie. Been twenty odd years hasn't it." he replied.

"Is Dickie dead?" Melanie guessed, struggling to understand why Doyle would call out of the blue.

"No, no. This ain't 'bout Dickie. This is 'bout Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens. Your profession deals in pharmaceuticals does it not? It seems Raylan has a weakness of the Oxycotton variety. As you might imagine, I'm a bit out of my league here. Would you be willin' to book a flight to Harlan, help me sort this out?" Doyle responded.

"...Sheriff..." Melanie began dubiously. "Before I give my answer, may I ask how it is you tracked me down?"

"Ava. Way I heard it you two were pen pals for a spell after you moved, then she married Bowman and he didn't want her contacting you anymore." Doyle replied. "Now, do you intend to leave today?"

"...I'd have to consult my supervisor first." Melanie said, trying to assess Lex, but his demeanor hadn't changed since he hit the speaker-phone button.

"If that's all you're concerned 'bout, then I guess I oughta wish you safe travels. Mr. Braysdale already gave me his blessing." Doyle chortled. Melanie's mouth gaped ajar, her incertitude eyes glazing over as she gawked at Lex. The tiniest of smirks had surfaced on his thin lips. "See you soon Mel!" Doyle declared, before hanging up.

"...Sir...?" Melanie stammered dumbfounded.

"Don't fret Miss Davenport, this isn't punishment, there's business to be done. We have reason to believe Robert Quarles may be relocated to Kentucky soon. You're a perfect plant, Miss Davenport...Assuming of course you can handle this business with the Marshal, discretely."

"...If you wanna post me in Kentucky that's fine, but Raylan...I have a history with Raylan Givens sir."

"When you were a teenager."

"..Even so, I'm not comfortable with..." Melanie began.

"I care not for your comforts Miss Davenport." Lex interrupted. "There is a red-eye leaving at 10 o' clock. I suggest you head home and start packing." he responded.

* * *

Butterflies tumbled in Melanie's stomach, as the elevators door slid open. Before her stood a bald man, late fifties to early sixties, with plain features, speaking to a mid-thirties stallion with a brown-and-silver mane, chiseled cheekbones and a patch of facial hair around his lithe mouth. "You told me he was playin' it straight." Art, the elder of the two, said.

"Wouldn't be the first time Boyd said one thin' and did 'nother…" Raylan replied.

"Boyd Crowder?" Melanie guessed, as she stepped foot out of the elevator. Their attention was immediately drawn onto her.

The surprise imbedded on Raylan's face, was reflected in his tone. "_Melanie_?"

"Oh this brings me to the final thin' I wanted to talk about," Art began, the up-tilt to his voice betraying his invisible smile. Raylan flicked his gaze impatiently onto his superior. "Due to the pharmaceutical nature of this investigation, OCI sent over one of theirs to oversee this case - Melanie Davenport. Art Muller, pleasure to meet you Ma'am." Art extended a hand which Melanie shook without hesitation. "I believe you and Raylan already know each other?" he added with a casual glance at the man in question.

His shock fading, Raylan rolled his shoulders. "Once upon a time…." He confirmed, putting his hands on his hips. "How long's it been Mel? Twenty-years give or take?"

"Sounds 'bout right….Christ, suddenly I feel 'ld." Melanie agreed, with an illuminated laugh.

"Eh you don't look it." Raylan assured her.

"No?" Melanie reflected, shining a smile at Raylan.

"Twenty-years is a long time, seems like you two have _a lot_ of catchin' up to do." Art said, side-stepping into the elevator. "Raylan, if you wouldn't mind escortin' Melanie 'round town…"

"I'll take care of 'er." Raylan readily replied with a nod and a hinged smile.

"What makes you think I need takin' care of?" Melanie responded, crossing her arms with a demure smile. Raylan cocked his head.

"Ms. Davenport?" Art began, drawing their attention. "You specifically asked Raylan to accompany you in this investigation..."

"Oh she did?" Raylan reflected, turning his bemused gaze back onto the red-faced female beside him.

"I assume there was an actual reason for your request, beyond infatuation." Art finished.

"Sir, I know my being here is a nuisance, and I'd hate to cause any interruption to the usual flow of your district. I requested Raylan because I knew he'd be least bothered by my presence." Melanie responded earnestly.

"Why would you presume that?" Raylan questioned.

Melanie shifted her focus from Art to him. "Because you still like me." she stated with a flip of her hair.

"I do huh?"

"Mm-hmm."

Clearing his throat as the elevator door began to close, Art called out. "You lovebirds behave yourselves!"

For a moment Raylan and Melanie merely stared at the elevator."I like your boss." She informed, breaking the silence.

"Yeah Art's a hoot…" Raylan replied, his dry sarcasm evident as his gaze slowly revolved away from the elevator door. "Would you care for some coffee? Tastes like shit, but you should meet Rachel and Tim before we head out." He said, leading the way back into the bullpen. "..'sides, I gotta grab my hat.."

"I heard 'bout that – how you're the cowboy lawman of Harlan county.." Melanie mused, following in his footsteps. "You're practically a legend.."

"Tryin' to make my head swell?" Raylan asked with a backward glance.

"_No_, wouldn't dream of it…." Melanie answered. "Can't risk muddlin' that handsome face…"

"Talkin' like that won't help."

"You're right, I take it back."

Raylan's smirk matched Melanie's as he lifted his hat from the rack beside his desk. "Rachel Brooks, this here is Criminal Investigator Melanie Davenport." He introduced, gesturing with his hat.

"Nice to meet you." Rachel said, smiling warmly as she shook Melanie's hand.

"Likewise." Melanie replied.

"Ma'am," Tim bowed his head a bit as he offered his hand. "I'm Tim Gutherson." He said with a smile that didn't quite reach his blue eyes. Melanie got the impression he had seen plenty of hardship.

"You look like an honest man Tim, how shitty is this coffee of yours?" Melanie asked with a teasing smile.

"Tastes like ashwood chippings pounded into a pot of clay, it's chalky but bold…" Tim answered. "Wanna cup?"

"Raincheck." Melanie replied, affably.

"Fair warning," Rachel began. "Once Raylan leaves this office, he usually doesn't come back until the case is closed." Melanie looked at Raylan, who gave an affirm nod. "You really want some coffee, it'd be best to get it now." Rachel suggested.

"'nother time then….strange enough bein' back in Harlan county, don't think I need an upset stomach." Melanie responded.

"You nervous bein' back?" Raylan asked.

Melanie suppressed a sigh. "Gonna have to watch my words 'round 'im aren't I?" she asked with a sideways glance at Rachel.

"Probably not a bad idea…" Rachel said.

* * *

Melanie's arm beckoned the car door to swing shut as she shifted in the passenger seat of Raylan's car. "So. Off to question Boyd. I sure have impeccable timin'." she mused to herself. She glanced over at Raylan as he revved the engine. "What the hell became of 'im Raylan? I read his file, I could scarcely believe it was the same Boyd Crowder of our youth."

A smirk quivered on Raylan's lips, but he didn't allow it to show. "What is it?" he asked. Melanie's eyes narrowed as Raylan met her gaze. "Whatever it is that's eatin' away at you, has nothin' to do with Boyd."

Melanie was silent a moment, then she let out a dark chuckle. "I ain't been back in Harlan a full day, and you already have me figured. Am I that much of an open book?" she wondered.

"Melanie..." Raylan prompted, knowing she was stalling.

Admitting defeat, Melanie slunk in her seat. "This business with the hijacked bus full of Oxy...it's not the only reason I've been summoned here. But currently it's the prominent one, and to that end...Doyle Bennett called up my office, rambunctiously I may add, talkin' some nonsense 'bout you being the one responsible for the theft."

"Me?" Raylan echoed.

"Yeah you. Doyle claims he has an eye witness that saw a man, in a wide-brimmed hat, wavin' 'round a gun, who declared himself to be Raylan Givens, rob two unsavory individuals of their newly acquired pill supply."

"Did you speak to this witness of his?"

"Doyle insisted I grab you first."

"Why didn't you pull rank?" Raylan asked.

"Because I know his theory is bullshit, and if I were you, I'd like to know if someone was trying to tarnish my name.." Melanie answered.

"I appreciate that Mel." Raylan told her, causing a smile to crease Melanie's lips. "Now maybe you wouldn't mind tellin' me, what else it is that brought you to back to Kentucky?" Raylan pressed.

"As you may or may not know, Theo Tonin is a major crime figure in Detroit. My office has shed a lot of blood, sweat and tears buildin' a case against him. His golden boy Robert Quarles, may be headed to Harlan in the distant future. Which basically means, I am on a prolonged stakeout that may or may not result in anythin'." Melanie explained, heaving a sigh.

"Problems with the boss?" Raylan guessed with a wince.

"Well I did refuse to fuck him at the Christmas bash. That aside, Lex probably figures my upbringin' here would make it easier for me to blend in." Melanie responded coyily.

Firming his grip on the steering wheel, Raylan cleared his throat, and decided to address the elephant in the room. "Speakin' of, your upbringin'...I never did get to say I was sorry. We'd all heard 'bout what happened to your folks on your drive out of the county..."

"You mean how the car magically malfunctioned and killed 'em both? Yeah. I'm not surprised." Melanie said, staring straight ahead with a faraway gleam to her eye. "Justice never was done, though I hear Bo Crowder did get booked eventually."

"He did." Raylan confirmed.

"Well that's somethin'..." Melanie murmured, though it brought her heart little relief.

"He's dead now Mel. Died a month ago actually." Raylan told her, which swung Melanie's full attention onto him. "Boyd was set on killin' 'im, but in a matter of circumstance someone else beat 'im to it. Thought you oughta know."

Melanie was more than a little stunned. "...I always got the impression, Boyd and his Pa weren't exactly close but...what drove him to try takin' Bo's life?" she questioned.

"Bo killed his flock. Boyd had a vigorous stint with religion. I'm not convinced it was genuine, but I think Boyd bought into his own bullshit pretty dearly..." Raylan responded.

"...What about Ava and Bowman?" Melanie asked softly.

"Ava shot Bowman. Ruled as self-defense."

"And Boyd didn't want revenge?"

"He tried gettin' it, and for his trouble, he got a bullet in the chest curtsey of yours truly. Him survivin' was the start of his religious outburst." Raylan explained.

"Guess that settles it then. You are a catalyst for chaos Raylan Givens." Melanie declared.

Raylan momentarily smiled in an 'all-shucks' matter. "Why don't you give Doyle a call, tell 'im I'd like to meet now, and that he sure as shit, better bring this eye witness along."

* * *

Doyle stood a few yards from his patrol car, his thumbs nicked in the loopholes of his belt. "Hello again Mel. That badge of yours is still blindin' me." he greeted.

"That's alright Doyle, my eyes are up here anyhow." Melanie retorted, strolling closely beside Raylan. The two had previously decided, they would let Doyle talk and see what came of it.

"Doyle." Raylan greeted flatly.

"Raylan. You and I go back a long ways, we grew up here together, your family and mine have both had our issues with the law, and despite that criminal element both of us become lawmen. But I got to thinkin' maybe Raylan ain't the man I thought he was...hell I got thinkin' maybe Raylan ain't the man everyone thinks he is." Doyle began, with a shrewd glance at Melanie.

"That so?" Raylan pegged.

Doyle nodded. "Sometimes a man does somethin'. Certain folks might see that somethin' as bein' wrong. Others they might embrace that, hell they might even be in a position to help that man out providin' that favor, gets returned later on..." Doyle paused for dramatic effect. "I know you took those pills Raylan. Melanie's in denial, but I told 'er , she ain't seen you in twenty years, how the fuck would she know what you are and aren't capable of?"

Raylan merely observed Doyle a moment, gave Melanie a sideways glance then jaunted over to the patrol car and opened the backdoor. "Am I the man you saw?" he asked the witness, leaning in slightly so she could get a good look.

The witness was blonde, and plain featured, and seemed amused by the notion. "Lord no." she replied.

"But you said-!" Doyle stammered as Raylan shut the door and faced him. "Hey I don't know you Raylan! You think there ain't never been a dirty marshal before?" he defended, his teal-eyed gaze shifting from Raylan to Melanie and back again.

"What was that shit you were sayin'?" Raylan asked. "'bout 'you think you know a man but don't'?"

"...I was just tryin' to feel you out..." Doyle deflected.

"Seemed like you were settin' him up for extortion..." Melanie spoke up.

It was clear to both Melanie and Raylan that Doyle wished to retort, but was unsure of how to phrase it without burying himself deeper. Raylan reverted his focus onto the witness, as he opened the car door again. "This man you saw, describe 'im to me." he requested.

"Well he was smaller. Kinda scrawny. He had a neck tattoo peekin' out of his shirt...I couldn't really make it out, some kind of letters...I thought it was odd cause I never seen a lawman with a tattoo like that." she mused.

"Anythin' else?" Raylan pressed.

"He mentioned somethin' 'bout poachin' gators. I remember cause it didn't make no sense..." she finished.

Raylan closed the car door for a second and final time. "C'mon Mel, we're headed after Dewey Crowe." he announced, heading for his own vehicle.

"Dewey Crowe?" Melanie repeated, following without hesitation. "I thought all his kin moved down to Florida?"

"Not all." Raylan sighed. "Be seein' you Doyle." he called over his shoulder.

Melanie paused, resting her weight on the roof of Raylan's car as she glanced back at Doyle. "...How's Dickie doin'?" she asked curiously.

"Best you ask 'im that yourself." Doyle replied, brushing her off.

Melanie watched for a moment as Doyle entered his patrol car with a glower, before she climbed into the passenger seat. Buckling her seatbeat, Melanie realized Raylan was gazing at her with bemused eyes. "What?" she blurted.

"How's Dickie?" Raylan repeated.

"Seemed rude not to ask...'specially after Dewey was brought up, I mean he and Dickie were two rag tag ruffians once.."

"That how you remember it? The way I remember it, Dewey was the irksome freshmen who trailed after Dickie because he was datin' you."

Melanie shook her head. "They hung out even after Dickie and I were through." she replied evenly. An expression of acknowledgment flashed across Raylan's face. "So why do you think Dewey tried impersonating you?" she asked.

"Maybe he thought he was bein' clever. Think that's why Dickie kept 'im 'round, Dewey made 'im look smarter." Raylan answered.

"Guess I can't argue that." Melanie murmured, gazing out the window.

Raylan's cellphone rang, and ignoring Melanie's questioning glance, he answered it. "Givens." he greeted. A few seconds passed and Raylan removed the phone from his ear, activating the speaker-phone.

"...did you have an inklin' of the man I might someday become?" asked a gruff voice with a soft output.

"Don't know Boyd, newly forty and still single?" Raylan retorted for Melanie's benefit.

"I never thought I would make a phone call like this Raylan..." Boyd replied.

"If this is about Dewey Crowe, don't worry 'bout it I already know." Raylan said.

"He's at Audrey's, handin' out Oxys like he's a pharmaceutical rep." Boyd told him.

"Thanks for the tip. Though it's funny you should mention pharmaceuticals ...I have a consultant workin' this case with me now Boyd, someone you and I both knew growin' up. Melanie Davenport. Would you like to talk to 'er?" Rayln announced.

"I don't know that I'm in the proper mindset for a conversation Raylan..." Boyd replied.

"Well maybe it'll do you some good then..." Raylan retorted, ceasing the speaker-phone feature and urging the phone towards Melanie's ear.

Melanie was slightly taken aback, but cradling the phone, she gladly took it from Raylan. "Hello Boyd." she greeted, grimacing at her accelerated heartbeat.

"Melanie. How are you?" Boyd asked, sounding as if a cloud of nostalgia was suffocating his words.

"I've been fine. I um...I'm sorry 'bout Bo..and Bowman." Melanie stammered.

"...Your condolences aren't needed, but they are appreciated. This isn't a topic lightly spoken 'bout, least of all over a phone, but I want you to know that I do regret what happened to your folks." Boyd confessed.

Melanie's response was weighed down by Boyd's heavy tone; it seemed to be awakening an ache within her.

"I really best be goin' now Mel." Boyd said.

"Boyd wait!" Melanie replied hurriedly. The dial tone loudly mocked her. Lowering the phone, Melanie stared at its face as she softly addressed Raylan. "Why did you do that?"

"I knew you'd want to speak to him, and that you probably wouldn't be forthcomin' 'bout it." Raylan answered readily.

Melanie was silent, continuing to stare at the phone even as she handed it back to its owner. "Really is strange bein' back Raylan..." she mumbled.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer - This fanfic is a reflection of the show, therefore some dialogue may also reflect it. **

* * *

Music could faintly be heard ebbing from the trailer situated before them, the trailer Dewey Crowe was currently abiding in with the company of two paid woman. "Classy." Melanie declared sarcastically.

"You wait here, just in case he tries anything funny..." Raylan replied, advancing toward the trailer. Melanie noticed that as he walked ahead, Raylan's gaze seemed fixated on something behind her. When Melanie turned, she saw the unmistakable figure of Boyd Crowder leaning against a tree. He raised his hand in greeting and Melanie slowly mirrored his action. Although she knew Raylan could handle Dewey by himself, she was reluctant to approach Boyd. She and Raylan had just gotten re-acquainted, and she certainly didn't wish to leave the wrong impression on him.

Raylan, meanwhile had entered the trailer where he found Dewey Crowe in his briefs, opposite two women in their undergarments. "Ladies, I am Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens." he introduced.

"Another one." giggled EllenMae, a brunette with large eyes.

Raylan's gaze darted to Dewey briefly, before continuing to address the women. "No, not another one. I'm actually a real US Marshal, I want you to put your clothes on and leave." he gently encouraged, raising his badge from his hip.

"Raylan, no, please!" Dewey blurted. "Gimme five more minutes, I will do whatever you want."

"Yeah whatever you want baby..." Ellen Mae and her accompliance murmured.

"Thank you...but I need you to get dressed." Raylan ordered, throwing Dewey's jeans to Dewey himself. Raylan waited for the working girls to leave before he spoke again. "I always had you figured for a special kind of idiot Dewey Crowe, but what you've done in the past 42 hours, is light years beyond any stupidity even I thought you were capable of."

"I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout." Dewey huffed as he climbed into his jeans.

"I'm talkin' 'bout the pills stashed in your car." Raylan said.

"Oh those? Those are for you! You deputized me remember? I was just seizing 'em for ya." Dewey replied.

"_That's good._" Raylan chortled, thinking that this was perhaps the fastest lie Dewey had ever concocted. "I'm impressed, I suppose you were gonna tell me soon as you were finished here?"

Melanie's gasp betrayed her presence on the threshold of the trailer. "You _deputized_ him? Christ Raylan, you didn't mention that. The hell were you thinkin'?"

"Didn't I tell you to hang back a ways?" Raylan replied.

"What for? The girls left, figured if he ain't gonna use 'em for a distraction, he ain't gonna try runnin'..." Melanie said with a shrug. "Hi Dewey." she added lamely.

Dewey's mouth was silently ajar as he stammered. "Melanie? Melanie Davenport? You workin' at Audrey's? Goddamn, I'd have rather had you..."

As Melanie's face turned ashen, Raylan held out an arm in case she felt the need to throttle him. "Melanie's working with me Dewey. She's a criminal investigator, means she's a federal agent. We're both wondering, who tipped you off? Hm? Who hired you?" Raylan pressed. Dewey's face crumbled into an unsure state as he glanced past Raylan at Melanie. "Oh I'm sorry were you afraid of lookin' less like a man? Because I believe that ship has already sailed." he added.

"Bobby Laud, he got killed." Dewey said quietly.

"You talk to anyone 'sides him?" Raylan pressed.

Hearing the gate rattle to the trailer park rattle, Melanie turned her head, thinking Boyd had left. However Boyd was right where she'd last seen him, currently staring down two newcomers that looked as if they weren't in the mood for a good time. "Raylan..." Melanie warned, palming the handle of her gun as Boyd began to speak to them.

Raylan stepped out of the trailer, just as the burlier of the two punched Boyd square in his temple. Before Raylan could utter a single word, the shorter man had wildly fired his gun blasting Melanie in her shoulder. Raylan quickly grabbed Melanie's uninjured arm and tugged her into the trailer, ducking behind the bed with her tucked at his side.

Stepping past Boyd's crumbled form, was Doyle Bennett drawing his gun at the men who were firing at Raylan and Melanie. "Cutler and El-Rod either of you move, I'll kill ya." he warned, causing the shooters to pause. "Tell me who hired you to hit that bus." he ordered, as they faced him with their hands in the air.

"...It was your brother Dickie." replied Cutler.

Without blinking, Doyle shot him and his friend square in the chest, firing off two additional rounds into the ground, to imply self defense. As the bullets hit the ground, Boyd was startled back into consciousness. Ignorant to Boyd's state, Doyle fished out Cutler's cellphone from his jeans pocket. "CLEAR." Doyle hollered, as Boyd pushed himself onto his knees.

After a courteous glance at Melanie Raylan stepped out of the trailer, gun still drawn. Clenching her wounded shoulder, which was currently emitting red-hot throbbing pain down her entire arm, Melanie staggered to her feet. "You alright? Shit that looks bad." Dewey fretted.

"Feels worse than it looks...fuck...do me a favor? Don't run..." Melanie grimaced, stepping out behind Raylan.

"Naw...wouldn't dream of runnin' from you..." Dewey replied sheepishly.

"Christ." Melanie swore, ringing her head.

"Ambulance is on its way Mel." Raylan told her, pocketing his phone.

"She don't need one, I'll take her." Dewey eagerly volunteered.

"No Dewey you can't, I'm takin' you into custody." Raylan said shortly, slapping on a pair of handcuffs against Dewey's wrist.

"Aw c'mon this isn't necessary." Dewey whined, as Raylan hooked Dewey's hands behind his back.

"Your false impersonation as a US Marshal, just got a federal agent shot, I think it's extremely necessary Dewey." Raylan proclaimed, although his gaze had shifted from the back of Dewey's head, to Doyle.

"I got this all under control Raylan, don't worry." Doyle said with a quick grin, waving an absentminded hand over the corpses of Cutler and El-Rod.

* * *

Hearing the familiar twange of his cellphone, Dickie Bennett rose from his perch beside his brother Coaver to answer it. "Cutler! What the hell is takin' you so long?" he greeted warmly.

"Did I keep you waitin'?' Doyle retorted from the opposite end of the line. "I was just busy cleaning up your goddamn mess!"

"Doyle...how did you get...?" Dickie began, just as Doyle busted through the door of his trailer.

"Off of Cutler's corpse, that's how I got it! I had to kill him and El-Rod to keep you two muddleheaded ingrates outta jail! What the hell are you doin' rippin' off that Oxy bus? And don't you deny it, Cutler outright told me before I killed him." Doyle demanded.

Coaver spoke first. "...Did he tell anyone else 'sides you that it was us?"

"Gee Coaver, I don't know, I didn't do a full-tilt interrogation." Doyle jeered.

"But did you get the Oxy?" Coaver persisted.

"No Coaver I didn't. If I had then Melanie Davenport would've flown her pretty lil ass all the way from Detroit just to get a bullet from Cutler'." Noticing Dickie's mouth gap ajar, Doyle continued without missing a beat. "Yeah Dick, _your_ Melanie. Made herself a criminal investigator, and guess what crime her office regularly investigates? _**Pharmaceuticals**_!"

"..Is she alright?" Dickie blurted.

"Fuck if she's alright - do you know who that Oxy bus belonged to?! Either of you?" Doyle responded.

"...The boys up in Frankfort." Dickie answered, still reeling.

"You really want to stir up that hornet's nest?" Doyle asked.

"I am not 'fraid of Frankfort!" Dickie replied.

"You're not 'fraid of Frankfort? What 'bout Mama, you 'fraid of 'er?" Doyle challenged.

"That is why I used El-Rod and Cutler." Dickie explained.

"The Dixie Mafia is gonna be sniffin' 'round here wonderin' who Cutler and El-Rod worked for. Is there anythin' that can come back to you 'sides that cellphone? _Anythin'_?" Doyle pressed.

"No." Coaver huffed.

"No." Dickie said.

"You two blunderbills have any more bright ideas you come to me first." Doyle growled, heading for his car.

Dickie took a step after him. "Doyle. What 'bout Melanie?" he asked.

"She ain't crippled and she ain't dead, beyond that you shouldn't give a shit." Doyle snarled.

* * *

Between Melanie feeling faint and Boyd dealing with shame, few words had been exchanged between the two on the ride to the hospital. Now with her shoulder heavily bandaged and her arm in a sling, Melanie progressed silently down the hall alongside Boyd. "Melanie I'd like to apologize..." he began.

"For what? Getting knocked down? If that hadn't happened, you may've ended up with a bullet in your skull..those two didn't seem the talkative type." Melanie responded. "Don't go holding yourself accountable for what happened Boyd, I ain't blamin' you. You wanna feel guilty 'bout somethin' - feel bad for being at Audrey's when you're supposed to be workin' the mines..."

Boyd smirked grimly. "I was on my way there, when I got to thinkin' you wouldn't be in town long. The thought of not seein' you, bothered me more than a shortened paycheck.." Boyd admitted with a demure smile.

Melanie's eyes combed down from his face, to his tattooed knuckles. "Awfully sweet, though you oughta know I may be in Harlan for a few months. We should have dinner sometime...your cousin Johnny still live in these parts?" she asked.

"Yes he does. I'll be sure to extend the offer to him." Boyd replied. "Ava'll make a great hostess." Observing the frown that bit at Melanie's lips, Boyd added. "Somethin' wrong?"

"I'm not sure how Ava would feel 'bout seein' me. Our last interaction was rather heated. She told me she never wanted to speak to me again." Melanie grimaced.

"You disapproved of her marryin' Bowman." Boyd guessed. Melanie nodded. "Then I believe that matter is moot don't you?"

* * *

After Raylan had gone through the due process of booking Dewey, he returned to the hospital to pick up Melanie and Boyd. Raylan had only taken a few steps toward the hospital entrance, when his hawk eyes honed in on a truck with its engine still running. The driver, Dickie Bennett, had strung his arms across his steering wheel, carefully watching the entrance. Removing his hat, Raylan walked up to the vehicle at a steady pace. Dickie didn't notice Raylan, until he was right beside his window. "Dickie. Lemme guess, you're here to see Melanie but you're too chicken-shit to go in and speak to her." he greeted.

"Nah-uh, Melanie who? No, no Raylan, I just stopped in this here parkin' lot to rest my leg, I can't drive much without it lockin' up." Dickie replied bitterly.

"Well if you don't come by this way outta guilt because one of your thieves, Cutler I think his name was, shot your highschool sweetheart, I'd have to ask – what are you doing all the way out here?" Raylan responded, resting his weight on the hood of Dickie's truck.

"Then I would have to tell you, to go fuck yourself Raylan." Dickie retorted brazenly.

"Your family still do the big get-together every Sunday, Dickie?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business.."

"I'll take that as a yes." Raylan decided, straightening as he cast a casual sideways glance at the entrance. "Well since you're already here, and since Melanie is already a quarter of the way here, why don't you stick 'round and say hello?" he suggested. Raylan watched closely as panic seared Dickie's features. "Somethin' the matter? Somewhere you gotta be suddenly? Not worried 'bout Mel seein' you are ya?" he taunted.

Dickie leered at him, but his glower quickly faded as Melanie appeared at Raylan's side. She'd grown up lovely. "Melanie...my Mel...m'lord..." Dickie stammered, stopping himself from calling Melanie his, he forced a smile. "That really you?"

"Yeah it's me Dickie. Christ you look exactly the same...scruffier though..." Melanie replied with a bright smile.

Dickie tried to relax his shoulders, but his entire body had grown tense at the sight of her. "That a good thing or would you rather I have the peachfuzz like Raylan?" he mocked.

Without thinking, Melanie extended her hand to touch Raylan's goateee. "Mm bit silver and coarse to be called peachfuzz." she said, failing to notice the effect her motion, had on the three men surrounding her. Boyd had averted his gaze, Dickie's jaw had tightened into a scowl, and Raylan's eyes had softened. "But it's a good look for you Dickie." she added.

"Thank you Mel." he said stiffly, his jealousy passing as quickly as it came. "Well I really ought to be hittin' the wide open road...good seein' you...I hope you heal quick. And say, if you ever find yourself without Thing 1 and Thing 2, lemme know alright?"

Melanie felt a giggle bubble on her lips as Dickie winked and put his truck in reverese. "Christ. I suddenly feel like I am right back in high school..." she sighed.

"Might wanna wait to ride nostalgic wave, until Sunday when we visit the Bennett household." Raylan said.

"You really think Doyle shot those men in cold blood?" Melanie asked.

Raylan looked to Boyd, but Boyd was already answering. "I saw Doyle take Cutler's phone Mel."

"Dickie shows up to check on  
you, doesn't even bother to ask me how you got hurt. That don't strike you as strange?" Raylan added.

"If it is the Bennetts how are we supposed to prove it?" Melanie pressed.

"We may not be able to...or we may get lucky, this is Dickie we're talkin' 'bout." Raylan responded with a shrug.


	4. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer** _- this story is a reflection of the show, therefore some of the dialogue may also be reflected.

* * *

The aroma of freshly baked biscuits and newly cooked sausage stirred Melanie from her hard sought slumber. Wincing, as she turned onto her back, Melanie heard a rapt at her hotel door. Repressing a sigh, Melanie climbed out of bed, clenching her wounded shoulder. "There are only a handful of people that know I'm here, half of which wouldn't think to bring me breakfast..." she murmured to herself, shuffling to the door. "Were I a bettin' sort of gal, I'd put money on the lawman..."

"Suppose you'd owe yourself money then." Raylan greeted, a Styrofoam box tucked between his hands, with a familiar slogan stamped on its lid.

"Nyla's Diner...awe Raylan, you shouldn't have..." Melanie smiled, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "Christ I must look a mess..."

"You look like you didn't get much sleep..." Raylan corrected.

Melanie grimaced. "Generally hotel beds are torturous enough without a shoulder injury..." she agreed. "You can come in if you give me a moment to look decent..." she added, resting her wounded arm against her midriff where her periwinkle tank top met her black slacks.

"Gonna need help changing your bandage?" Raylan asked, closing the door behind him as he entered her room.

"Hopefully not." Melanie said, peering at her blood-soaked gauze with a frown while she fetched jeans and a blouse from her unzipped suitcase.

"You ever been shot before?" Raylan asked, setting the breakfast box down on the table situated in the midst of the room. The look on Melanie's face was answer enough, inspiring a slight smirk to form on Raylan's mouth, as he took off his hat. "Lemme help...I've been shot before."

"...Can I brush my teeth first?"

"..Go on."

As Melanie disappeared into the bathroom, Raylan took in his surroundings. It was easy to see Melanie was reluctant to unpack. The closet was bare, despite her suitcase being in close proximity. A small pile of boxes situated beside the dresser were mostly undisturbed. Noticing a familiar knicknack on the dresser, Raylan walked forward. His rough hands enclosed around a miniuture black-felt teddy bear with amber eyes, holding a strawberry with the stitched lettering 'I'm Berry Sorry'. Raylan chuckled to himself, duely aware of the bathroom door parting as Melanie returned. "You kept it." he said, glancing sideways at her. "Tackiest thing I ever bought a girl...and I seem to recall you were still mad at me after I gave it to you..."

"I was!" Melanie laughed, affectionately retrieving the toy back from his grasp. "Damn thin' won me over though..." Melanie ran her palm over the bear's head. "Only friend I had growin' up in that orphanage. Named 'im Grizzlan Growlvens, after you...Raylan Givens." she gave the bear a little shake before setting it back down.

"Orphanage?" Raylan repeated, his face unnaturally scrunched in confusion. "Thought your Ma had family west of here..."

"She did...does...they had no interest in raising a mourning teenager. Can't say I fully blame them..." Melanie confessed, breaking eye contact as she fetched fresh gauze and medical tape from her nightstand. "So should I sit, or would it be easier if I stood?" Melanie continued, quick to change the subject.

"You sit, I'll stand." Raylan instructed, taking the supplies from her. Melanie perched on the edge of her bed, and attempted to remove her soiled bandages. "I got it." Raylan said, waving her hands away. The corners of Melanie's lips hardened into a scowl, and Raylan was hapless to admit, even so, she still looked beautiful. "What happened when you came of age? With the orphanage I mean..."

Melanie debated answering, but felt it would be rude not to, especially considering he was tending to her wound. "A man of influence took me in...sorta like Daddy Warbucks. He saw to it I got a college education, so I could support myself."

"Awfully kind of him. What'd he want in return?"

"Nothing, turns out he was an ex lover of my mother. He had heard 'bout what happened, and felt the least he could do was help me."

Melanie's eyes had clouded over, her gaze shifting from Raylan to her bruised clavicle. The bullethole was still raw and gaping, causing Melanie to sigh in dispair. Raylan however, felt a red flag lift within his mind. Had Melanie just lied to him?

"The kindness of strangers..." Raylan muttered, gingerly tapping medicine into her wound. Melanie smiled forcefully, oblivious to Raylan's jaw tightening. Before Raylan could utter another word, his cellphone went off. Spreading out his fingertips to hold the gauze in place, Raylan used his free hand to check who was calling. Wionna.

Melanie's fingers traced Raylan's, as she too held the gauze against her shoulder. "Need to take that?" she asked.

"I'll call 'er back.." Raylan dismissed, tearing the medical tape with his teeth.

"Who is she?"

"..My ex wife."

"You two still friendly?" Melanie inquired, trying to sound casual.

"Very." Raylan answered. "All done..."

"Thanks. And thanks for the breakfast too..." Melanie said heading for the table.

"Don't mention it." Raylan replied, tossing the medical tape onto her nighstand.

Melanie settled into the uncomfortable chair that had been provided with the table. "So who left who? Though the better question might be, who returned to who?" she mused, jabbing her plastic fork into the sausage and eggs.

"This line of questioning goin' somewhere?" Raylan asked, resting his weight against the wall.

"Mm...not a social call afterall.." Melanie noted. "We headed out to the Bennetts I take it?"

"We are." Raylan confirmed.

"Well then, I'll get dressed and I can eat on the way..." Melanie decided, standing. "Not too ladylike, but it seems I don't have to worry 'bout that 'round you anymore." she teased, grabbing the outfit she had previously selected.

* * *

Dickie had been playing 'cops & robbers' with his various nieces and nephews, when he caught sight of Raylan's cruiser pulling up. Annoyance knotted in his stomach, until he caught sight of Melanie exiting the passenger seat.

Doyle stepped forward to meet them. "Raylan what's all this about? Come for a lil Sunday dinner?"

"You know how work is, nights and weekends are the only time anything good happens." Raylan replied.

Doyle shifted his gaze to the brunette beside Raylan. "You two spendin' the whole weekend together?" he smiled, his implication clear.

"Raylan don't need a whole weekend to git things done..." Melanie replied lowly with a wink, earning a stern glance from Raylan. "Speakin' of, Doyle, have you ever heard of a condom before? Goddamn you've a lot of lil ones..."

"I'm a devoted husband Mel. And I will die a happy man if that word never leaves your mouth again." Doyle responded curtly.

Melanie looked to Raylan. "I figure that's a 'no' then, what 'bout you?" she jeered.

"Melanie." Coaver greeted flatly, stepping up alongside his brother. "Still trottin' 'round with Raylan...not surprisin'..."

"What can I say Coav? Must be his winnin' smile. I see you've grown well..and wide..." Melanie retorted. Anger consumed Coaver, but Doyle held out an arm to keep him at bay.

Mags Bennett approached with Dickie at her side. "Raylan Givens...showin' up uninvited, but uninvited don't mean unwelcome.. That even applies to Miss Davenport. Didn't think I'd see you 'round these parts ever again Mel...certainly not with a badge around your neck." she greeted.

"Never expected to be back either Mags...I won't pretend it ain't strange." Melanie responded with a half smile, her attention shifting to Dickie.

"I brought you somethin' from Nyla's Diner." Raylan announced, handing Mags a paper box containing apple pie. "Doesn't compare to your homemade brew.." he added, remarking on her moonshine.

"Makin' a batch soon, I'll send one to ya with your name on it." Mags promised.

"I'd appreciate that. I also, got some things here for the kids, if it's alright?" Raylan continued, to which Mags nodded. "Here Mel, wanna help me pass 'em out?" he encouraged, handing a few trinkets to his comrade. "This here is Eastern Kentucky's official marshal coins. Not for spendin', just for collectin'..."

"'Justice is comin'..'" Doyle read, over the shoulder of his son. "Gotta whole slew of slogans like that?"

"I expect so." Raylan said, as Mags shooed away the children. "They all amount to the same meaning I'm sure."

Once the children had scattered into the house, the adult Bennetts, Raylan and Melanie settled around the picnic table. Mags sat at the head of the table, with Doyle on one side and Raylan at the other. Melanie sat beside Raylan, near Doyle who was reclining in a fold-up chair at the end of the table. Dickie sat slightly between Raylan and Mags, though his chair was angled at Melanie.

"What's on your mind Raylan?" Mags asked.

Raylan began. "Was wondering if you know a man by the name Bobby Laud?"

"Name's not familiar.." Mags replied.

"Fella that got killed on that oxy bus couple days back...Turns out he was a foot solider for the Dixie Mafia outta Frankfort.." Raylan continued.

"Dixie Mafia? Lord, sounds like a mighty dangerous outfit." Mags chortled.

"I can assure you they are Mags." Melanie spoke up. "The Dixie Mafia is formidable enough that my entire faction is committed to puttin' 'em behind bars."

"Hitting a bus belongin' to the Dixie Mafia doesn't seem like something thieves such as Cutler and El-Rod wouldn't take on of their own initiative." Raylan continued. "I believe your boy Doyle inquired as to who they worked for...before they drew on 'im, and had no choice to put 'em down."

"That's 'bout right." Doyle confirmed to Mags's questioning glance.

"Well we acquired the phone records of the thieves, one of 'em El-Rod to be exact, had numerous call exchanges with Dickie." Raylan announced.

Dickie felt his heart freeze as his mother turned to him. "...Yes he did speak to Dickie..I spoke to El-Rod 'bout buyin' an ATV for the business..." Dickie lied.

"We may never be able to prove otherwise, but I want you to know that I know what's goin' on out of respect..." Raylan told Mags.

Dickie tried to say something but Mags silenced him with a snap of her mouth. Sitting forward, Mags addressed Raylan. "Marshal...you know I deal in weed, you know my position on Oxy and the such...yet you find it acceptable for you to bust in here on my family get-together, askin' if I had a hand in robbing a bus full of shit from a bunch of Frankfort pecker fucks?!" Mags shrilly replied, getting to her feet.

"Mags I never asked if you robbed that bus.." Raylan reminded.

"Nah you were just being all clever-like, implyin' without askin'...Tryin' to stir things up, that why you brought 'er along?" Mags retorted, gesturing at Melanie.

"You tell me Mags, is it workin'?" Raylan replied coolly.

"Lemme ask you somethin' Raylan.."

"Fire away."

"Why do you care so much?" Mags asked.

"I'm sorry?" Raylan remarked.

"C'mon child, you're going to sit there on my lumber and tell me this has nothin' to do with our families? That it has nothin' to do with why my boy there hasn't walked right for the past 21 years?!" Mags responded. "No thanks to you missy, might I add!" she said pointing directly at Melanie.

Melanie and Raylan both rose from the table at the same instance. Melanie spoke first. "You still blame me all these years for Dickie's hot-headed actions?"

"No I blame the lot of ya!" Mags corrected, gesturing furiously at both her and Raylan.

"I have never stopped bein' sorry for what happened, but you never were willin' to hear that, were ya Mags?! Not you or Dickie!" Melanie snapped.

"Melanie." Raylan said, shushing her with just her name. Raylan reverted his attention to Mags. "Frankfort police is goin' to come over that hill bringin' hell with 'em because of that bus. They'll stay until they bleed this county white...whatever our history Mags, that's why I care. Y'all enjoy the rest of your day.."

Raylan walked off in one direction, Mags and Doyle walked the opposite way, but Melanie lagged behind, her gaze soaring from Doyle's retreating back onto Dickie. "I have tried apologizing a thousand times, never got nothin' more than a scoff and a sneer...that's why I didn't bother sayin' anythin' when I saw you again.." she said softly.

Dickie slowly stood. "I don't need your apology Mel. If you truly want to bury the hatchet, then I need to know, who it is you went home with after the ho down..." he responded.

Melanie's brow furrowed in confusion. "...'xcuse me?" she muttered.

"Well Coaver and I saw you dancin' with Raylan and Boyd, and we took bets on how things played out...ya know, which one got to be the lucky fella that night..." Dickie explained curtly.

Shock radiated within Melanie, but she didn't allow it to fester. "..Could've been you Dickie - if you didn't have lockjaw on Mag's teat." she retorted, turning on her heel to follow Raylan.

Coaver jumped to his feet, throwing a dinner plate after her. "Davenport you say 'nother word 'bout Mama 'round me ever again and I swear I'll wreck your face! I don't give a shit if you're a woman, hell you ain't a woman, women don't speak like that!" he spat.

Melanie resisted the urge to flip him off, and entered Raylan's cruiser with an irritated sigh at her inaction. Raylan, who had already started the engine, shifted gears. "Just couldn't contain yourself could ya?" he greeted, with laughter lighting his eyes.

* * *

"What are we going to do 'bout Raylan Givens?" Dickie asked his brothers.

"What do you mean?" Doyle replied.

"I think Ma wants us to kill 'im.." Dickie said.

"She said she don't want 'im snooping 'round." Coaver agreed.

"Have you any idea the federal shitstorm that'd bring, killing a marshal? Not to mention we'd have to kill your precious Melanie while we were at it. Always a big fuss when women are involved." Doyle responded.

"She ain't my Melanie.." Dickie said lowly.

"Oh ain't she?" Doyle challenged.

Coaver piped. "She ain't no woman, you shoulda heard how she spoke 'bout Mama.."

"Matters to us, won't matter to 'em journalist types if we murder her, now will it?" Doyle retorted. "I don't want either of you doing shit, or even contemplate doing shit until you run it by someone who can think."


End file.
